You'll Never Walk Alone
by ShotgunOpera
Summary: Everything in Charlotte Curtis' life seems to be going well. Until, that is, a fateful accident, and then her whole world is turned upside down.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except my few OC's. Everything else belongs to Susie. The lyrics and title is from the song "You'll Never Walk Alone", originally belonging to Rogers and Hammerstein, though the version I have is covered by Johnny Cash. Either way, I don't own the lyrics or the title.

A/N: Well, here it is, the sister-fic that I've been talking about. I got this chapter written sooner than I thought I would, but I didn't want to miss the January '09 deadline that I had set for myself. Thanks goes out to RileysMomma, for being a good beta. :)

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_Walk on through the wind,_

_Walk on through the rain,_

_Though your dreams be tossed and blown._

_Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart,_

_And you'll never walk alone,_

_You'll never walk alone._

My breath hung in the chilly January air, slowly dissipating as the wind whipped it away. I tugged my coat around me a little tighter, glad that I wasn't wearing my old one. I'd had my old coat since I was a senior in high school and it was starting to show its age with various little holes in the seams and stains that just wouldn't come out. What had once been a glorious blue had faded into a dull grey. I'd had my eye on a really nice coat in the department store, a brown and red plaid, so imagine how happy I was to see it peeking at me through the wrapping paper on Christmas morning, along with a matching red scarf. It still faintly smelled of department store.

Usually I would head to the corner to wait for the bus after I got off work, but today was different. Today I searched for the blue Ford Tudor that belonged to my father and I soon found it waiting for me across the street, as all the parking spaces on this side had been taken. I saw him waving at me and I waved back, pausing to look both ways before I crossed the street.

His smile, I swore, could light up the world. I loved his smiles, especially when he smiled at me, and he was generous with handing them out. I loved the way it made the skin around his eyes crinkle, leaving little smile lines around them as if to prove how happy he was. His eyes were the only part of him that indicated his age. His tan skin was mostly smooth, and he had nary a grey hair on his head. But if you looked into his eyes, you saw the years.

"Hey, Charlotte!" he called out to me as I neared the car.

I smiled back at him. "Hey, Daddy." At twenty-three – almost twenty-four – I still called my father "Daddy." What could I say? Even though he wasn't my biological father, he'd always been Daddy to me, and I've always been his little girl.

He rounded the car with me to open the door for me, and as he did he said, "I got off work a little early today so I went ahead and got the flowers."

"Oh, thank you!" I grinned as I saw the bundle in the backseat. I always got the same thing: white roses and white carnations framed by baby's breath. It wasn't very big or grand, but Lora – the florist – always picked the best flowers for me.

The ride to the cemetery was quiet, as it usually was. Daddy seemed to know that I needed the quiet so he saved his stories and jokes for the ride back. I looked out the window, watching the rain fall and the window fog slightly. Most of the time I figured that it was for the best that I didn't know my real father; after all, you don't miss what you don't know. But sometimes, mostly on the way to the graveyard, I wished I had known him.

Mamma said that I resembled him in the way that I walked with my head held high, facing the world. She said I had his eyes, too, a dark brown highlighted by caramel flecks. And even though my hair was wavy like hers, it was the same dark mahogany color that belonged to my real dad, Charlie. I figured it must be hard for her, sometimes, to look at me and be reminded of him, but Mamma never said anything. Mamma never complained.

She hadn't come from a real good home. She said she was "just another statistic" when she got pregnant when she was in high school. She told me Charlie was a good man; he married her and did his best to provide for her, even though he was a dropout. He never went looking for trouble, but trouble seemed to find him anyway. It finally caught up with him when someone knifed him in the gut in what was supposed to be a weapon-less rumble. He tried to hold on, for me and Mamma, but it was a battle he couldn't win.

Daddy – Mr. Curtis – was a good friend of Charlie's and he did his best to help Mamma, who was seven months along when Charlie died. After I was born, the comfort they found in each other blossomed into something more and he married her two years later, adopting me at the same time with no questions asked. And the rest, as they say, is history.

The light in front of us changed from red to green and Daddy shifted and nudged the car forward, much to the old car's protest. It sputtered and the engine stalled as we started across the intersection. Daddy sighed and cussed under his breath as he tried to revive it. I shook my head at him, thankful that nobody was behind us as I patiently waited for the car to start. Letting my gaze roam, I looked over his shoulder out of the driver's window and I saw it coming.

An old truck was lumbering down the road at a good clip and it was not slowing down at all as it approached the four-way intersection. "Daddy …" I laid my hand on his shoulder and then pointed at it. He turned his head, and though I couldn't see his face I could sense the urgent change in his body language. He pleaded with the engine to start, trying every trick he could think of as the truck barreled towards us. "Daddy ..." I said again, much more urgently this time as I tried to open the door.

The damn thing was stuck and I couldn't get it to budge. "Daddy!" I shrieked, and as if in response, the engine sputtered to life.

I'd never seen a man shift so fast in all my life, but I figured he could've rivaled a race car driver as he popped it into gear and sped out of the intersection. He stopped the car for a second and we both looked over our shoulders to see the truck speed through the red light, right where our car had been.

I let out a sigh of relief as I turned back around in my seat. I heard a similar one from the driver's side as Daddy continued down the road, slowing down and then making the turn onto the dirt road that wound its way around the cemetery.

"Well, that would've been convenient, huh, dying right in front of the cemetery and all?" Daddy asked, trying to lighten the mood.

I chuckled a little, but still commented with, "Daddy, that's not funny." He flashed me that mischievous smile of his as he turned the car off.

I waited for him to come around and open my door. We had been having problems with the doors sticking, along with the transmission. It was annoying, but money was a little tight and repair bills were high. I knew that they were saving up to fix it, though, they weren't ignoring the problem. Rather, they were simply putting up with it until it could be properly addressed.

Flower bundle in hand, I walked the oh-so-familiar path to my father's grave. How many times I had visited, I didn't know; I remembered coming here to leave flowers ever since I was a little girl. Mamma would share little stories about him whenever she came and I grew to have a somewhat unique connection to my father through the years. It wasn't that Mr. Curtis wasn't a good dad, but there was a part of me that would always wonder what my life would have been like if Charlie hadn't died.

I knelt by the simple marker, reading the name and dates like I did every time. _Charles Leif Cochrane. January 13, 1924 – December 29, 1941._ January 13. Today; today was his birthday. He would have been forty-two years old today.

"Happy birthday, Dad," I whispered as I laid the flowers at the base of the headstone. Gently, I reached out to trace the engraved letters, remembering the photo that Mamma kept that showed a handsome, vibrant young man. Much like my brothers, and their friends, I often mused. They may have been separated by a generation, but they were cut of the same cloth.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder as Daddy knelt beside me. "I miss him, too," he whispered, and I turned to look at him. He and my father had been close; closer, I suspected, than he let on. Charlie's death had hit him just as hard as it had hit Mamma.

The ride home was still rather quiet, compared to what it normally was. I guess we were both in a bit of a somber mood. As we pulled into the driveway, Daddy said, "I wonder what's for dinner?"

"I think Mamma said something about meatloaf this morning."

"Mmm, I love Maggie's meatloaf," he said, grinning at me as he shut the engine off and walked around the car again to open the door for me.

Darry and Soda and Pony were all wrestling in the living room when we walked in. Soda and Pony often tried to gang up on Darry, but Darry wasn't easy to beat. "Boys, you better be careful in there!" Mamma said from the kitchen.

She soon appeared in the dining room doorway, apron on and towel in hand. She smiled when she saw us walking in. "You're just in time. Dinner's almost ready." She turned to me. "Char, will you set the table for us?"

"Yes, Mamma." I went to my room briefly to set my coat and purse on my bed before I walked back to the kitchen to grab the plates and silverware.

"Did you go to the cemetery today?" she quietly asked me.

I nodded. "Yes, we did."

She smiled gently. "Good."

Dinner was as rowdy as it usually was in the Curtis house. Daddy and Sodapop loved to swap jokes, and we never made it through a meal without laughing.

My mother and I made eye contact across the table and smiled at each other as I raised my glass of milk to my lips. There was a lot of "what if's" that I contemplated from time to time, but I still wouldn't trade my family and the way we were for the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters belong to Susie, not to me. If you don't recognize a character, it's probably an OC of mine.

A/N: And I managed to pound out chapter 2 for the new year. Yay! Thank you, RileysMomma, for catching all my mistakes and dealing with my tendency to abuse commas. :)

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Work was tedious on Monday as it usually was. I'd had a hell of a time decoding one of Mr. Fischer's handwritten letters so I could type it up and send it out, and that had left me with a small headache. I was so grateful to step foot in my house and know that I could relax for a bit while supper was cooking.

The house was dark and quiet. Mamma and Daddy were off at a dinner party, Darry was working late, and Ponyboy and Johnny had gone to the movies. Soda was off somewhere with Steve, either at the Dingo or the bowling alley or wherever else they went to hunt up some action that was as close to legal as possible.

After I put on a record at a soothing volume, I set to work on supper with Johnny Cash's voice drifting through the house. Mamma had made up a couple of casserole dishes of lasagna earlier, so all I had to do was stick it in the oven. All I really had to do was mix the lettuce and assorted veggies for the salad, which didn't take long at all.

Soon enough I was lounging on the big chair in the living room, simply enjoying listening to my record as the lasagna cooked, getting up only to switch records once the first one ended. I stood by the old-style radio/record player for a moment, tapping my fingernails on the wood surface along to the music. I was lost in the music when the phone rang and startled me.

I turned the record off before I answered it. "Hello?"

"Is this Charlotte?"

"Yes, it is; who is this?"

"This is Suzanne Miller, one of your mother's friends. I was wondering if your mother and father had left yet?"

"For what?" I asked, momentarily blanking.

"For our dinner party; I was wondering if they were running late."

Realization dawned on me, quickly replaced by a seed of worry. "I'm sorry; they left before I even got home from work."

"Really?" Mrs. Miller sounded surprised. "They should have been here by now, then. I wonder what's keeping them?"

I was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. Looking out the window, I saw that it was a policeman and I silently hoped that they were just looking for Dallas Winston. "I'm sorry, there's someone at the door," I told her, instead, adding, "Is it alright if I call you back?"

"Certainly, dear."

Setting the phone back on its cradle, I went to answer the door, praying that one of my brothers wasn't sitting in the back seat of their car. I opened the front door, leaving the screen door between me and them. "Can I help you?" I asked.

The cop looked down at a card he was holding in his hand, and then back up at me. "Are you Charlotte Curtis?" I was a bit put off, not sure why he was here and asking for me by name. How did he even know who I was? There was something about his stiff demeanor that put me on edge and made me suspect that something was very, very wrong.

"Yes sir," I replied. I peeked out at his car and saw that no one was in the backseat. Mentally I gave a sigh of relief, thankful that one of my brothers wasn't in trouble, but my mind started racing, trying to put together why a policeman was standing at the front door, asking for me.

The cop sighed and took off his hat. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," I replied, that seed of worry growing into the first stages of panic. My hands shook as I opened the screen door and let them in; I hoped that it wasn't noticeable as I absent-mindedly wiped my hands on the apron that I was still wearing from preparing dinner.

I wasn't sure what to say to him, and he seemed to pick up on that, so he continued. "I'm afraid there's been an accident."

My heart leapt into my throat. "An accident?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid we don't have all the details, all we know is that somehow Mr. and Mrs. Curtis' car was hit by a train. From the testimony of the conductor, it seems that somehow the car got stuck when crossing the tracks."

Inwardly, I cringed. That damn transmission had picked the worst possible time to give out. _Why_ did it have to give out then? "How bad are they?" I asked, hoping that my voice didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

"I'm sorry?"

"How bad are their injuries?" I clarified, bracing myself for the possibility that my parents could be hospitalized for a long time. After all, they had to be more than just minor cuts and bruises; if they weren't that serious my parents would be telling me about the accident themselves.

"I'm afraid you don't understand, Miss," the cop said. "They didn't survive."

I felt my heart clench, and I no longer cared if my voice was shaky; I had to confirm what I had just heard. "I'm sorry?"

"They didn't survive."

I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to suppress the sob that was threatening to make itself known. My head started spinning, making me dizzy, and I swayed backwards and sat down hard on the couch, trying to process everything that had just happened. My parents were dead. No, that couldn't be right, it just couldn't be. And yet, the policeman was standing there, fumbling with his hat, not quite sure what to say to me after that. I couldn't even think of anything to say or do until somebody walked in the door.

I looked up to see Darry. In a second, he surveyed the scene – the policeman, my still-shocked expression – and his blue eyes hardened as he knew something was wrong. My voice broke as I said, "Darry ..." I couldn't even finish the sentence without a sob escaping.

I saw a grimace cross Darry's face, and he turned to the cop. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soft, but demanding at the same time. It was a tone I'd heard him use before; it meant he wanted answers and he wanted them immediately.

The cop told Darry the same thing he had told me, about the accident, the train. He was trying to sound as sympathetic as possible, but I could tell that he was a little out of his element.

I saw Darry's jaw and fists clench, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. From all outward appearances, it seemed like he was calm and collected, but when he opened his eyes I could see the tears welling up.

I twisted my hands in my apron, trying to control myself. I couldn't help my chin wrinkling up or my voice from shaking as I said, "Darry, what are we going to tell Soda and Pony?"

The cop seemed confused for a moment. "Who are Soda and Pony?"

I opened my mouth to try to answer, but I didn't trust myself to not break down into a sobbing mess, so I closed my mouth again. Fortunately, Darry seemed to have picked up on the state I was in and answered for me. "Soda and Pony are our younger brothers."

"I see. They're minors?" he clarified.

We both nodded.

The cop sighed. "Boy, I was afraid of this." He pursed his lips as he seemed to search for the right words to say. "With minors involved, it's going to be a bit more complicated, I'm afraid. You'll need to contact social services as soon as possible."

"Why?" I asked.

He looked me square in the face as he answered. "To figure out custody of the minor children."

Everything seemed like it was a dream, so hazy and far away. I felt so detached from the situation, I almost didn't realize I was speaking when I asked, "Do you have the number?"

"I'm afraid I don't. It should be right in the phone book, though." He paused a moment before he continued, "I understand how hard this is for you two, but you understand that you will need to contact them as soon as possible, right? It's all for the best interest of your brothers."

Darry nodded. "I understand, sir."

The policeman nodded. "Good. I'll leave you alone, now. I'm very sorry for what happened."

Darry showed the policeman out the door as I sat on the couch, still partially in shock. I didn't notice the fact that Darry had joined me on the couch until I felt his hand on my shoulder. I buried my face in his shoulder, no longer able to hold back the sobs, and he let me cry into his sweaty shirt. He rested his cheek against my forehead and though he didn't sob I could feel the moisture from his tears as they made their way down his cheeks and onto my skin. I don't know how long we sat like that; neither of us really wanted to say anything, we just wanted the comfort of each other until we could process what had happened.

I could hear laughter outside the front door, and I recognized Soda and Pony's voice as they said goodbye to their friends before they walked into the house. I quickly dried my tears as best as I could before facing them.

They both stopped in the doorway, the sight of me and Darry on the couch giving away that something was wrong. Soda was the one to breach the subject as he quietly asked, "What's going on, you guys?"

Darry and I looked at each other, and I knew that we thought the same thing. _How are we going to tell them?_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nothing but my OCs belong to me, everything else belongs to Susie.

A/N: Ta-da! Here's chapter 3. I hope y'all enjoy it. Thanks goes to RileysMomma for being a good beta. :) I paid homage to her one-shot, "Turning Point" in this fic, props to those who pick it up! ;)

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I was surprised to see the sun shining brightly through my curtains when I finally woke up that morning. I guess I had expected the day of my parents funeral to be gloomy and overcast if not an outright downpour. However, instead of rain pattering against my window I heard birds singing in a nearby tree. _Don't they know what day it is?_ I thought to myself, drawing the covers around my shoulders and snuggling into my pillow, staving off the waking world as long as possible.

It had been a week ago that the police officer had knocked on the front door – a full seven days since that fateful accident – and I still couldn't get the cop's words out of my head. They replayed over and over in my head until I just wanted to cover my ears to try to block them out. _I'm afraid you don't understand, Miss_ … That right there was the worst, the shock before the gut punch. I wished that I could forever erase those words from my memory but I knew deep down that it wouldn't do any good, that forgetting his words wouldn't bring my parents back; nothing would.

The past several days had been a blur of activity, from reading the will to cashing out insurance policies to making the funeral arrangements. I had done my best to screw my face into a stony expression but there were times that the tears got the best of me. Those were the times that I was eternally grateful to Darry for being a rock. He was strong so I didn't have to be.

After my shower and typical routine I fished the one black suit that I had out of my closet while I pondered what color blouse to wear underneath. I eventually decided on the deep burgundy that I usually wore around Christmas time because it was the right mixture of casual-nice and fancy-nice.

As I walked into the kitchen I thought I heard an exasperated sigh come from the bathroom. I peeked in and saw that it was Darry having some trouble tying his tie. I leaned on the door post and smirked. "Having trouble, Dar?"

His blue eyes flicked over in my direction before settling back to his image in the mirror. "I'm just having some trouble with my tie." He dropped his hands and rested them on the counter-top. "Mom usually helps me," he said in a whisper.

I nodded before I stepped into the bathroom and tugged on his shoulders so he would face me. My ex-boyfriend, Todd, had never been keen on tying his tie either and so I had quickly learned the basics of tie-tying. "Are you ready?" I asked him.

He sighed. "I don't think I could ever be ready for this." He licked his lips and whispered, "Char, I don't know how I'm going to make it through the service."

I straightened his lapels after I finished with his tie and gave him a sad, understanding smile. "I don't know, either."

XXX

I hadn't bothered with eyeliner or mascara with my makeup because I knew it would smear all over the place when I cried. I don't think that Darry cried at all during the service, but when he went up to pay his last respects I saw a lone tear leave a shiny trail down his cheek.

The service was simple and short but it suited them. To society they hadn't made that much of a difference but to us they were our whole world. Even Dallas was there, albeit hungover and still reeking of alcohol. He stood apart from the rest of us, leaning on a tree, content to keep his distance as we stood near the grave-site. Darry approached him as we started to leave and I saw him wander over to the caskets. I stood there, watching him nervously shift his weight and stuff his hands in his pockets as he paid his own respects to them. Tim Shepard approached him but I didn't get a chance to see his reaction before Darry caught up to us.

My brothers' friends gave us some much needed space after the funeral and for that I was eternally grateful. Soda and Pony changed out of their nice clothes as soon as we walked in the door but I settled for kicking off my heels and Darry only discarded his tie and pulled his shirttails out. He sat at the table for a long time as he went through all the bills and paperwork that had accumulated after the accident.

I brewed a pot of coffee and fixed two cups for me and Darry before I sat down across from him. He barely even looked up to acknowledge the offer, favoring the papers before him instead. I had tried to go through everything before but I couldn't do it without getting misty-eyed and breaking down.

"I don't know how we're going to do this," he said suddenly, so quietly that I wasn't even sure if he had spoken.

I reached across the table to take one of his hands in mine. "We'll make it work; that's what you do for family."

His other hand reached over to cover mine. He sighed and paused a moment before he announced, "I'm going to file for guardianship."

I nodded; I had expected no less of him. Neither of us wanted Soda and Pony to disappear into boys' homes.

Little did Darry know that I had my own plans. "I'm going to file for joint guardianship."

His head snapped up so his eyes could meet mine. "What?"

I had expected this reaction, so I took a deep breath and calmly explained my position to him. "Darry, look, you're just getting into a job, into construction no less which is seasonal work. The courts will look at you and will see that you don't have a very steady cash flow. Me, on the other hand, I've worked at that place for five years now, I have a steady income. My only drawback is that I'm a woman and I'm not sure how they'll view me as the sole guardian for two teenage boys. But, if we file together ..."

He nodded as I trailed off and squeezed my hand. "Thank you."

I squeezed back. "We're family; we belong together."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Only my OC's belong to me. Everything else belongs to Susie.

A/N: I know some of you have been waiting for this, so here it is! And all in time for Good Fic Day. :) Thanks goes to RileysMomma for all her help with the court scene.

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Today was _the_ day, possibly one of the most important days of my life. Darry and I had filed all of the necessary paperwork for guardianship of Soda and Pony and today was the hearing that would determine if we were granted it or not.

I was exceedingly nervous as I took my best suit – tan in color – from my closet and decided on the light blue blouse to go with it. Almost mechanically, I figured that the blouse's color would go well with my blue scarf that had light blue polka dots on it.

Scarves were definitely one of my vices and they were usually cheap enough that I could indulge in it. I just didn't quite feel complete unless I had a matching scarf tied around my head in lieu of a headband.

As I was adjusting the scarf in my hair, I heard a small knock on my door. "Come in," I announced.

I turned around to see Darry standing in the doorway, his hair rumpled and tie in hand. "Um, I was wondering if you could … um …"

I grinned and almost giggled at the sight of him defeated by such a small enemy. "Sure, Dar."

A small smile crossed his face as he handed the tie over to me. I tied it in silence, taking the time to make sure it was straight before I stepped back to admire my work. He pursed his lips before he spoke, "Charlotte, what if … what if we don't get guardianship?"

That was a thought that had been in my mind since day one. I had determined not to dwell on it but the thought was still there, haunting me. What if we didn't get custody of the boys? What would happen to them? "I don't know. I don't really like to think about that if you want the truth."

He nodded; he undoubtedly felt the same way. "You know, you didn't have to file for joint-guardianship."

He must have told me that at least ten times already. "Darry, they're my brothers, too."

"I know, but …"

"But nothing, Dar."

He sighed and grinned slightly. "Fine, I know I can't argue with you. You're as stubborn as Mom."

I grinned back. "Gotta keep it in the family."

XXX

The judge was late.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not as we waited in the reception area. It was a little chilly and I pulled my suit jacket tighter around me as I sighed and kept bouncing my foot. Soda was endlessly fidgeting and I felt for sure that he was going to wiggle himself right off the bench.

I reached out with my left hand to grip Darry's hand. He squeezed back and flashed me a reassuring look. We'd had a long talk the night before, just being there for each other and supporting each other. I didn't know how I would have managed without Darry; he was such a rock. I tried to be the same for him, too.

Finally, after about half an hour of waiting, the judge walked in, carrying several files and a manilla envelope with him. He nodded to us as he passed by us and entered his chambers. I heard Darry give a sigh of relief beside me and I gave a similar one in response. At least the judge was finally here, the wait wouldn't be much longer now.

After a few minutes, the judge came to the door and asked, "Is there a Miss Charlotte Curtis here?"

A sudden wave of nervousness washed over me as I stood up. "Yes, sir."

"Ah, will you please come in? I'd prefer to question you all separately before I make my decision."

The judge's chambers were very nice, but with an understated elegance rather than opulence. He stepped behind a large oak desk and motioned for me to sit down. I followed suit and waited for him to start asking questions. He shuffled through a few papers before he started. "How old are you, Miss Curtis?"

My voice almost cracked as I spoke, "Twenty-three. I'll be twenty-four next month."

"Hmm," he considered before he asked, "And how long have you worked at your current job?"

"Five years."

He shuffled through some more papers before he said, "Alright, Miss Curtis, I'm going to be frank with you." He looked at me over his half-rimmed glasses and asked, "What makes you think you are capable of taking care of your younger brothers?"

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before I answered, "Well, sir, we're a very tight-knit family. This tragedy has been difficult on us all, and Darry and I believe that if Sodapop and Ponyboy were removed from us, it would be even more difficult for them. I have a solid job to provide for them, and Darry is getting another job in addition to the one he already has at the construction company. We'll have three sources of income along with what remains of my parents' insurance policies, which we believe will be more than enough to provide for them."

"Mmmhmm," he acknowledged. "And do you know exactly what taking care of your brothers will entail?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir; their schooling will be the most important issue. Darry and I did well in school and we'll be able to help them with homework."

"And yet Sodapop has been held back a grade and is on the verge of flunking out, is he not?"

I winced; this was one of the bad strikes that we knew was going to go against us. "His grades have never been very good," I defended.

"Hmm," was all he would say in response. He shuffled a few papers on his desk before he said, "Alright, that is all. Would you care to send your brother, Darrel, in when you go out?"

"Yes, sir," I replied as I stood and exited through the ornate wood doors. I paused a moment before I said, "Darry? He wants to see you."

I could tell Darry was nervous from the way he swallowed hard before he stood up. He adjusted his shoulders and took a deep breath before he strolled through the thick oak doors.

I wasn't sure how long I had been in there, so it was impossible for me to say whether or not Darry was in longer. He seemed to be in there forever as we waited on the hard bench. I twisted my hands in my lap and looked out the window, trying to appear to be indifferent about the length of time that Darry was spending in the judge's chambers. I felt a hand envelop mine and I looked to see Soda's hand on mine. He flashed me a small smile and I returned it as I gripped his hand. I wish that I could have been strong like Darry was, but it was just nigh impossible for me.

After what seemed like forever, the doors opened and Darry stepped out. "Sodapop? He wants to see you next," he announced.

Darry stepped aside to let Soda's lithe figure through before he joined me and Pony on the bench. He looked relieved and slightly flustered. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

Darry grimaced as he replied, "He didn't like my employment situation."

"What about it?"

"I've only been working there three months; he didn't think that was very stable. I tried to tell him that it was a permanent position - and that I was getting another job, to boot - but he seemed to shrug it off."

That was not one of the things that we had prepared for, and it had totally blindsided us. "I'm sorry," I said as I laid a hand on his shoulder. "He liked my employment, so maybe it'll make up for it?"

"We can only hope." He sighed before he added, "He also didn't like Soda's school record."

I nodded. "He told me that, too." I didn't even want to think about how hard he was grilling Soda at that very moment. "Did he say anything else?"

Darry shook his head. "No, not really."

We lapsed into silence as we waited for Soda to get done. We had been hoping to get out in time to go out to lunch, but by the way things were progressing, that seemed unlikely. After several minutes, I gently touched Darry's shoulder and let him know that I was going to seek out the ladies room and that I would be right back.

I found the bathroom with minimal difficulty and I found the quiet haven to be somewhat soothing. I dawdled a bit more than I probably should have and I didn't realize how long I was gone until I came back to find Pony gone and Soda sitting in his place. Most people would have thought that Sodapop was cool as a cucumber as he flashed his famous grin, but I knew better. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hands shook slightly; the judge had probably grilled him for his grades and he hated when people got on his case about it.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Ponyboy timidly opened the door and told us that we could all come in.

Darry and Soda graciously let me have one of the seats while Pony took the other. The judge shuffled the paperwork on his desk before he spoke and when he did, it was directed at Darry. "Mr. Curtis, this is a very large responsibility that is not to be taken lightly. If you had applied for guardianship alone, it would be a very difficult decision for me to rule on. However, considering that your sister has come forward and filed for joint-guardianship, this is a fairly open and shut case." I felt my heart soar as he spoke the next words. "Guardianship of Sodapop Patrick Curtis and Ponyboy Michael Curtis will be awarded to Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr. and Charlotte Louise Curtis."

Sodapop practically choked me as he threw his arms around me in celebration. I hugged him back as Darry encased all of us in a group hug. I wasn't able to physically, but inside I was jumping up and down. _We did it!_

Judge Vaughn cleared his throat to get our attention. "There will be a few provisions, however. You will have monthly assessments by a social worker who will determine if the minor children are still receiving proper care. If it is determined that they are not, then custody will be awarded to the State and they will be put into boys' homes." He leveled us a look as he spoke next. "I expect that should be no problem," he intoned seriously.

And with that, they were ours.


End file.
